


Mesabi Ferrum: Episodic Vignettes

by Zoonr



Series: Mesabi Ferrum Universe [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s07e22 Requiem, F/M, Mesabi Ferrum, Post-Existence, Post-The Truth, Post-Three Words, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoonr/pseuds/Zoonr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2006 I finished the longest story I’ve ever written: A post-invasion monster called “Mesabi Ferrum”.  The story itself was set in 2012, but scattered throughout, I added flashback sequences that were essentially post-episode stories that I felt added to the emotional storyline of MF.  As MF moved forward in time, the flashbacks moved backwards.  They primarily involved gaps in season 7-9 episodes, but there is one entirely non-post episode flashback (the first one here), that gives context for Mulder and Scully’s life on the run.  I guess we could call that a post-“The Truth” story if we must.  I have to admit, I wrote the flashbacks both to enhance MF, but also because these were pieces of stories (scenes really) I wanted to tell for myself.  I’ve been thinking about posting a little package of these scenes from MF for a while now.  I hope fans of the story will enjoy them on their own.  Perhaps this can appease you as I finish up the Mesabi Ferrum sequel…  And I hope maybe some of you who have never read MF might decide to give the long behemoth a chance.  If not, I still think these scenes will make sense as stand-alones.  </p><p>Episodes: The Truth, Existence, Three Words, Requiem, Per Manum</p><p>Cheers, Z.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mesabi Ferrum: Episodic Vignettes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mesabi Ferrum](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/84674) by Zoonr. 



TITLE:   Mesabi Ferrum: Episodic Vignettes

AUTHOR: Zoonr

EMAIL: zoonr@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: This work contains characters and situations of the television series "The X-Files," which are the creations and intellectual property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, and FOX Broadcasting Co. The author makes no claim to ownership over these elements, and this work should be distributed only in a free manner without promoting monetary gain.

DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere.  Just let me know.

SPOILERS: The Truth, Existence, Three Words, Requiem, Per Manum

RATING: R (barely)

CATEGORY:  MSR

CLASSIFICATION:

SUMMARY:  In 2006 I finished the longest story I’ve ever written: A post-invasion monster called “Mesabi Ferrum”.  The story itself was set in 2012, but scattered throughout, I added flashback sequences that were essentially post-episode stories that I felt added to the emotional storyline of MF.  As MF moved forward in time, the flashbacks moved backwards.  They primarily involved gaps in season 7-9 episodes, but there is one entirely non-post episode flashback (the first one here), that gives context for Mulder and Scully’s life on the run.  I guess we could call that a post-“The Truth” story if we must.  I have to admit, I wrote the flashbacks both to enhance MF, but also because these were pieces of stories (scenes really) I wanted to tell for myself.  I’ve been thinking about posting a little package of these scenes from MF for a while now.  I hope fans of the story will enjoy them on their own.  Perhaps this can appease you as I finish up the Mesabi Ferrum sequel…  And I hope maybe some of you who have never read MF might decide to give the long behemoth a chance.  If not, I still think these scenes will make sense as stand-alones.  Cheers, Z.

POST DATE: 11/23/2014

MY NOTES:  You can find the full [Mesabi Ferrum novel at my website](http://zoonr.tripod.com/Mesabi%20Ferrum%20HomeFINAL.htm), at Gossamer, or at my new Archive of Our Own X-Files site (which I'm still creating).  I’ve left the Mesabi Ferrum Chapter location in the beginning of each vignette and added the XF episode it plays off of.

FEEDBACK: Loved and feared at [zoonr@hotmail.com](mailto:zoonr@hotmail.com) and/or A

**^^^^^^**

Vignette 1: Post-The Truth (6 years later).

Summary: Mulder and Scully are still in hiding.

Mesabi Ferrum: CHAPTER SIX

Lake Tahoe

Spring 2008

The snow had receded to almost a third of the way up the mountain slope, yet the cool spring air felt as if winter had not yet said its farewell.  Some of the mountain passes were still closed to car traffic, and skiers continued to flock to the slopes in a desperate, last ditch effort to ride the great white surf.  Cocooned by craggy formations, the lake's sparkling water reminded Mulder of a Catholic baptismal fountain, seemingly protecting tears shed from Heaven.  Scully once told him she did not think there could be a more beautiful place on earth, or one that was closer to God, than Lake Tahoe.  She must have been rubbing off on him, because Mulder had to agree.

Scully and Mulder had spent nearly a year there, almost five years after they began their lives as fugitives--as people without names.  They'd managed to find a small cabin for cheap rent on the Nevada side, close enough to the glitz of South Tahoe, yet far enough away to go unnoticed.

Mulder opened the door to the cabin, and quickly stepped inside.  "I got it," he said.  He held up a small manila envelope, and waved it back and forth in the air.  "We should be good for a while with this."

Mulder closed the cabin door behind him and the latch clicked loudly as it caught.  He strode toward Scully, shed his nylon windbreaker, and dropped it on the floor.  She sat on the sofa, which faced a large picture window.  The window framed an evergreen covered slope that slid down toward the shore, giving them a splendid view of the lake and the white-capped mountains surrounding them.  Scully set her tea down on the coffee table, and twisted her body around to face Mulder.

"Was there a note?"  Mulder could tell she was trying to hide the eagerness in her voice, to sound casual.  Scully picked at a non-existent thread in the sofa, giving away her anxiousness and Mulder suppressed a smile.  He didn’t want to find joy in her anxiety, but he found her very cute when she tried to appear nonchalant. 

It had been almost eight months since Scully’s mother had managed to send them a personal message along with the cash she had been smuggling to them.  Because of a financial arrangement Mulder had made before William’s birth, the two of them had little need to earn money, which was good because life on the run made holding down a normal job very difficult.  Unfortunately, not working only compounded their seclusion from the rest of the world, making the rare letter from her mother feel like a holiday to Scully, better than winning the lottery.

"Mulder?  A note?" Mulder frowned, furrowed his brow.  Scully sighed and lowered her gaze to her hands resting on her lap, her enthusiasm fading. 

When he could bear to torture her no longer, Mulder's lips curled up into a smile, and he pulled a small piece of white paper from inside the envelope.  He walked closer to her, and sat down beside her on the sofa. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he placed the note in her hand.  "I was just teasing."

Scully's eyes lit up as she closed her hand around the letter.  She pulled Mulder into a tight embrace, made a bit awkward by their positions on the sofa.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips lightly on the sensitive, goose-fleshed skin there.  He leaned into her, and his hands found their way to her back, where they traced lazy lines soothingly. 

"I'm not mad," she said, after a moment.  Her voice was low, muffled by his body.  "I wasn't expecting a note anyway."  She pulled away from him to look into his eyes.  Her fingertips lingered on the back of his neck, teasing the fine downy hairs.  She smiled to reassure him and leaned in for a gentle kiss on his lips.  The contact was brief, but tender, making a soft popping sound on the release.

"What does it say?” she asked.  “Did you read it?" 

"It's your letter, Scully.  I got as far as 'Dear Dana' and stopped," he said.

"Mulder, I don’t mind if you read my mother’s letters.  She usually has as much to say to you as she does to me.”

"I know,” he said, not even fooling himself.  “I didn't want to intrude on your family."

Scully tilted her head slightly to the side, and moved her hand to his cheek.  "Mulder, you're my family too.  My mother feels that way just as much as I do."  She rubbed the short stubble on his face and spoke in a low voice.  Mulder loved when she used that tone.  He thought of it as her bedroom voice, though he bet that if other guys heard it, they would not conjure up an image of porn-star.  Her voice was low and melodic, rich, filled with oak-barrel smoke making it sensual, not quite sex kitten.

Of course, he wouldn't object if the sex kitten voice ever made an appearance, either.

He lowered his lashes and curved his mouth into a crooked smile.  No matter how many times Scully told him he was her family or no matter how many times Scully's mother asked about him in her encrypted letters, Mulder could never get past the memory of Bill Scully, Jr. calling him an ass.  Or was it a sonofabitch?  It was hard to keep track sometimes.

When it came to Scully's family, Mulder always felt he was on the outside looking in.  Being on the run had made traditional Scully Family Christmas mornings and Easter brunches a bit difficult to keep up.  He was sure her family blamed him for that.  He knew Scully loved him, but their unusual relationship and lifestyle kept the word family out of his lexicon.  He still thought of them as partners.  Even though they had a child together, and he thought of Scully as the most significant person he would ever know, his soul mate even, he wasn't sure that they would ever be a family. 

Especially since that one thing -- that child between them -- had only been in their mutual presence for less than one week out of eight years. 

"Mulder?  You know that, right?" Scully asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

Scully tilted his face up with her fingertip, gently prodding his chin, trying to convince him of something he wasn’t sure he could ever believe, or wasn't ready to believe.  The key was to distract her, so he leaned in for another long kiss.  "I'm going to take a shower," he said after, his face still close. 

He shifted his body, tried to push himself off of the sofa.  Scully's hand held his forearm, pulling him back down to his seat.  "Read it to me," she said.

"Scully, it's okay,” he said, wanting to give her some privacy.  “You can tell me about it later.  Take your time."

"You're much better at deciphering the code than I am,” she said, daring him.  “It will take me twice as long, and I always have to use a pen and paper.  Please?  Save me some time?"  She smiled mischievously and raised an eyebrow. 

Years ago, they'd developed a fairly complex code system.  Actually, Langly had developed it, and Mulder and Scully had learned it.  That was years before Super Soldiers and being on the lam.  Mulder had simply been paranoid then, with no real evidence to back up his conspiracy theories.  Scully had humored him at first, but then when she'd lost interest in improving her skills, he began re-writing case notes she'd written into code, or RingoText, as Byers had dubbed it, and leaving the notes for her to discover. He would leave personal messages in her briefcase, in her car, even in email letters.  She never admitted it to him, but he suspected she enjoyed his unusual way of forced tutoring. 

He was particularly fond of one memorable lesson involving melted chocolate, a swizzle stick and less clothing than Scully would ever admit to in front of a grand jury.

The code made it possible for Mulder and Scully to communicate with a few trusted individuals without using a telephone.  Any intercepted message would appear to be gibberish to whoever found it.  So far, it had worked, though a couple of times the code proved to be a bit too complex.  Mulder wasn't sure if it was Skinner, her mother, Scully or himself who had screwed up the deciphering, but the result had been no cash pickup.

They'd eaten a lot of mac’ and cheese that month. 

Shortly before William was born, Mulder had liquidated all of his assets, and stuffed them into a Swiss bank account.  He wanted to ensure that no matter what happened to him, William and Scully would be taken care of.  He created a fake identity using a few of the skills he’d learned from the Lone Gunmen.  The bank account was set up to automatically deposit monthly sums into the account of a third party benefactor.  The idea was to make it look like a trust fund, or a stipend.

He had chosen Scully's mother, Margaret, as the lucky benefactor, since it was easy to make it look as if the money was coming from the late Captain Scully's estate, doled out in small increments to avoid unnecessary attention.   

According to the plan, after receiving the monthly *inheritance,* Mrs. Scully would pass it along to her daughter, all in cash, of course.  When Scully had been forced to go on the run with him, Mulder had to come up with an alternate plan.  It had been a risky idea, but they’d decided to mail Mrs. Scully the key to Langly’s code.  Since then, she’d been mailing cash to pre-arranged post office boxes throughout the country as Mulder and Scully traveled.

So long as they didn't spend frivolously, Mulder and Scully would have enough money to last them for several more years, at least until the impending date of Colonization arrived.  God willing, it would last them beyond that *uneventful* date. 

Scully cleared her throat, smiled, engaging him in the silent challenge.  He could read the code faster than she could, but they both knew he wasn't that much better. 

To take the bait, or not to take the bait?  That was the question.

The letter was short, as usual.  It was too tedious to write anything longer than a page or two using code.  Unlike Maggie Scully, who used a decoder key to help her turn English into RingoText, Mulder effortlessly translated in his head.  He read slightly slower than he would a normal letter, but to a person who didn't listen to him read often, it would barely be noticeable. 

Mrs. Scully spoke of missing them both enormously.  She prayed for their safety, and for the day when they could come home.  Soon, she hoped, all the usual things to say when you haven't seen your daughter in more than six years.  One of the hardest things for her mother, according to the note, was constantly lying to the boys, meaning Bill Jr., and Charlie.  To most of the world, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were presumed dead, killed in a fatal explosion in New Mexico shortly after breaking Mulder out of jail.  That was the official FBI report.  Of course, the line between official and unofficial was all about who wrote the report. 

The last thing Scully's mother wrote about was Bill's new baby.  Her mother hadn't mentioned Bill’s wife Tara was pregnant in her last communication.  She must not have known.  At any rate, the couple had a girl now, a baby sister to their son Matthew.  They named her Dana Melissa, but they still hadn't decided what they would actually call her.  They'd been calling her Katy, for a reason Maggie wasn't sure of, so unless things changed, it was likely that would be the name that stuck. 

Her Christening was in a week.

Mulder finished the letter, folded it neatly back along the creases and handed it to Scully.  She took it slowly, and brought her hands down to her lap, where she absently twirled the note with her fingers.  If she had been excited earlier about getting the message from her mom, she now seemed equally as sad. 

"I didn't think they could have more children.  I know they tried to have Matthew for a long time," Scully said quietly. 

Mulder scooted closer to her, and laid back on the sofa, pulling her with him.  Her head rested on his shoulder, and she moved one hand to his leg, gently caressing his inner thigh through his jeans. 

They sat there silently for several moments.  Mulder didn't have to be a genius to understand the thoughts that must have been going through Scully's mind.  He was sure her thoughts weren't far off from his anyway.  Just as they had danced around their feelings for each other in the early days of their FBI partnership, these days they danced around the missing part of their family. 

Correction:  Their missing son. 

Not that they never spoke of him, or of the adoption.  It was quite the opposite.  Much of their time was spent looking for William, especially as Scully made progress on a serum which could potentially fight the coming Plague. 

They talked about him, but not about how they *felt* about him.  If they discussed their grief over being separated from their son, it was rare. 

"Do you think Matthew wishes he'd gotten a little brother, instead?" 

"I don't know.  Little sisters aren't so bad," Mulder said.  He rested his chin on top of Scully's head, and smiled slightly into her hair.  "They tend to idolize their big brothers."

Scully huffed out a small laugh.  “I certainly idolized Bill, believe it or not,” she said.  Scully inhaled deeply, and her breath quivered as she let it out.  "If I had sent William to stay with Bill, Matthew would have a brother and a sister."

"Scully..." Mulder sat up, twisted his body so that he could face her.  "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't play the ‘what if' game."

"Don't you ever think about it, Mulder?  You must.  You didn't even get to decide."  Tears welled up in Scully’s eyes and trickled down her cheek.  It had been a long time since she'd cried over William, as far as Mulder knew.  The past year had actually been a fairly happy one for them.  They were living in a beautiful place, they had each other, and they still had plenty of time.  Emotional evasion could be a wonderful thing.

Mulder wasn't sure what she wanted him to say.  Did he think about it?  Sure he did.  If he had been strong enough to face up to the forces that threatened him back then, they'd still have their son.  They'd be oblivious to the future, and Scully would still have her mother; her family.  He couldn't say he thought she made the right choice.  But the hell if he knew what the right choice had been.  The 'what if' game only had losers, so he preferred not to play.  Not today. 

Instead of telling her all of that, he kissed her--hard.

And she kissed him back.

It may have taken them seven years to attempt this form of discussion in the first place, but since going on the run, they'd perfected it. 

Make love, not talk.

Mulder's hands moved through her hair, massaging her scalp as his lips and tongue roamed the skin below her ear, her throat and mouth.  She pulled him against her body, grasping his head just below the hairline, laying them both back onto the sofa.  Her right leg draped languidly over the edge of the sofa and Mulder shifted, better dispersing his weight above her, trying not to allow his full mass to press her into the oversized cushions. 

He flinched infinitesimally when her warm hands found their way under his shirt and onto the sensitive skin of his stomach, tugging the shirt up with them.  He paused the hungry exploration of her lips for a moment, sitting up to pull his white cotton t-shirt off.  He growled as he tossed the shirt towards the window, where it fell into a heap on the floor.  The scene outside the cabin was beautiful and it felt to Mulder like they were floating above the clouds.

But he only looked outside for a moment.

Mulder straddled her hips, helping her sweater meet the same fate his t-shirt had, then he crushed her again with the full length of his body.  With the sensation of skin touching skin, his need to feel her intensified, and he welcomed it when she clawed at his back, marking him. 

"Mulder..." she gasped, as his mouth made contact with her breast.  And that was the moment all thought left him.  Whatever they had been discussing before was irrelevant.  There was only sensation and desire, woven within pain and pleasure, two emotions that were paradoxically the same.

When it was over, they lay with their legs tangled together, quiet, breathing deeply.  Mulder wrapped his arms around Scully, and she curled against him, partially on the sofa, and partially covering his long body.  She was nestled along the taut Latissimus muscles covering the sides of his ribs.  Her hand smoothed back and forth over his stomach, tracing the line of sparse hair from his chest to his navel. 

Not knowing what else to say, he asked her if she was cold.  She said that she wasn't. 

"Thirsty?"

"No," she said.

"Can I get you anything?"

She closed her eyes as sleep pressed against her lids.

"I'm fine."

He knew she was lying, but he didn't call her bluff.  Instead, he let sleep claim him, too.

^^^^^^

Vignette 2: The Truth (prior to final scene).

Summary: Mulder and Scully have started their life on the run in a motel room in Roswell, NM.

Mesabi Ferrum: CHAPTER TEN

Roswell, New Mexico

May 2002

The motel's vacancy sign flashed overhead, casting a faint sparkle of neon color through what had become a torrential downpour.  The sign gave off a low electric hum reminding Scully vaguely of a bug zapper.  Her uncle Ray had lived in rural Virginia and Scully could remember the sound that the bluish electricity-infused zapper made during summer visits to his house with her family when she was a young girl.  It was a favorite pastime of the Scully children.  In particular, her brothers Bill, Jr. and Charlie, ever fascinated, would watch the glowing lamp draw in unwitting insects for hours, long past dusk.  The zapper would hum faintly until a bug got too close, then it would shoot out a spark of light like a miniature bolt of lightening, and the little insect corpse would fall to the ground.

Scully felt a little like one of those bugs now.

Mulder walked slightly ahead of her.  He reached the door to their room, unlocked it and held it open for her.  She walked underneath his arm into the room carrying a duffle bag full of all her worldly possessions.  At least, they were all she had now.

"Roswell, Mulder?"

"Poetic, don't you think?"

She didn't answer him, but she gave him a tight-lipped smile.  She could think of a few other descriptive words more appropriate than poetic. 

Scully threw her duffle on the queen-sized bed, where it landed with a mild bounce.  Mulder still stood in the doorway, protected from the rain by a slight overhang above the sidewalk, which buffered him from the parking lot.

"Now what?"  She asked, her back to him as she worried an unraveling thread on the duffle bag’s strap.  She wasn't angry or accusatory, just tired.  They'd been driving for hours in circles.  Backtracking their route, taking sudden turns, making sure they had not been followed. They had barely spoken, and even though Mulder had driven the entire time, her heightened sense of anxiety had sapped most of her energy.

"Well, I guess we sleep here tonight and we can decide where to go in the morning," Mulder said.

"No, I mean, now what do we do?  Not just tonight, not just tomorrow."  She hitched her shoulders up and dropped them.  "Now what?"  She turned around to face him.

Mulder shook his head slightly.  "I'm not sure I follow."

"I mean, Mulder, where do we go from here?" she asked. 

If someone had asked her what emotion she felt at that moment she wouldn't have been able to express it clearly.  She felt void of everything, aside from exhaustion.  The last several days had wiped her out, and it wasn't until the last few hours or so, during their drive away from the obliterated Anasazi ruins, that what she and Mulder had just done finally started to sink in.  This was not just another Agents Mulder and Scully Adventure.  They couldn’t write this one off on an expense report and suffer another reprimand in their personnel file.

They were both fugitives and they could never go back home.

She had broken Mulder out of a military prison -- which was not something she regretted for a moment.  But she had also left her life behind.  She didn't regret that either.  She had loved the FBI once, but being an agent was just a job.  It had given her financial stability, but money meant nothing without companionship.  She’d had a beautiful apartment, something she had come to despise ever since giving William up for adoption.  The place had amplified her loneliness to unbearable decibel levels.  In every crook, around every corner she seemed to find a reminder of what she had lost; a stray bootie here, one of Mulder's sweatshirts there.  She had even stayed alone in a hotel room for a couple of weeks just after she had signed the final paperwork officially handing their son off to a social worker and out of her life forever. 

The fact that she would probably never see her mother, or her brothers again was painful, dreadfully so, but worse than that was the two month old memory of holding William in her arms for the very last time.  Only two months had passed and now instead of reuniting Mulder with his son, and living as one happy family, she was here with Mulder alone.  In a rattrap motel in Roswell, New Mexico she had what she thought she had been dreaming of for the past year -- Mulder safely with her. 

But his reappearance left a bittersweet taste on her tongue and though her heart was overjoyed at having him back, it was also wracked with guilt, feeling as if it had become much smaller than it had been before.  If she had held out for just two more months she would have Mulder and William and to hell with the rest of the world.  That would be perfect happiness.  Instead, she felt perfectly incomplete.  That would have to be enough, but she knew it never could be.

The failure she felt coated her skin like a layer of silt and she felt the need to scrub it off.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, twisting back around toward her bag, away from Mulder.  She unzipped the large black duffle, and dug through it searching for the lone pair of pajamas she'd brought with her. 

"Scully?"  He asked, closing the motel door behind him.  He stepped forward and stood just behind her.  He didn't touch her, but she could feel his body heat invade her space.  It felt good.  Too good.  It was a feeling she’d missed for the past year during his absence, but now felt she didn’t deserve.

"Mulder, I just need to get out of these clothes.  Do you mind if I take the first one?"

Instead of an answer, she felt his hands smooth over her shoulders, drifting down her back, and around her waist.  His fingers splayed open on her stomach, and then his mouth covered her neck, shocking her cool skin with a wet-warmth she wasn't sure she merited. She sucked in a breath, unable to exhale, unable to find words to tell him what she was feeling. 

A breathy "Mulder" was all she could manage, so she closed her eyes, and leaned back into his body.  His hands roamed over her until they found the buttons on her chocolate brown blouse.  His fingers deftly pushed the buttons through the holes until her shirt hung open, but he did not take it off.

"Mulder..." she tried again.  They should talk.  Their entire partnership had been built upon trust communicated through body language and silent words.  It was amazing and beautiful and indescribable, but was also the reason it had taken them seven years to get to this point when most people with half their connection would have hit the sheets after the first year, or less. 

They definitely should talk.

She turned around in his arms to face him.  Her logical mind wanted to push him away, to end this pre-established precedent of dodging the issues and allowing emotion to drive their actions. 

As he found her mouth with his own, she told her logical brain to stuff it.

What else could possibly go wrong anyway?

She brought her hands to his shoulders, kneaded the lean muscles there like a kitten.  Grasp and release.  Grasp and release.  She pressed her fingertips into his skin and pulled him closer, opening her mouth to him more, touching her tongue against his.  In the stark, cheap motel room all she could hear was the sound of their desperate breathing mixed with the distant sound of the rain outside.  She let him guide her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and he gently lowered her to the mattress, pushing her backward and covering her with his body. 

She arched into him when he ran his hand over her bare stomach, not wanting to separate from him again.  They had been separated for far too long, and if she could have, she would have crawled inside of him forever.

She wrapped her legs around him, content to surround him instead.

And that would have to be good enough, too.

^^^^^^

"You've been working out," she said drowsily.  Scully’s fingertips gently pressed over the pectoral muscles in his chest and the bulked up biceps in his arms, reacquainting herself with his body. 

"Didn't have a whole lot to keep me busy for the past year.  You know, aside from jumping off of trains and breaking into secret government facilities buried inside of mountains," he said, forcing a soft chuckle.

Scully smiled mirthlessly against his chest, staring toward the window, where outside it still rained heavily.

They lay like that for several minutes; quiet, neither closing their eyes to sleep, neither looking at the other.  Independently, both of their minds raced to organize what had happened in the past few days, and tried to figure out what to do next.  What to say now?

"Mulder?"

"Um hmm?" He mumbled as he lazily drew random circular patterns over her bare arm.

She wanted to tell him about everything that had happened during the last year.  He knew the cold facts, but she needed him to understand the reasons for them.  She wanted to tell him what it had been like wondering if he was alive or dead.  How experiencing failure after failure at protecting William had nearly killed her.  That it was still killing her.  She wanted to plead with him to forgive her for making a terrible decision alone that she had regretted from the moment she'd sent William away.  The decision she'd made under the assumption that she would never see Mulder again.  A decision that had gone horribly wrong.  She had given up hope.  She'd lost faith in herself, in him and in God.  In humanity. 

In spite of that, here they were.  They were together.  They were alive and that had to count for something.  She wanted to make him understand all of that.  That she loved him, that the faith she thought she had lost had only been hidden from her.   

"Mulder?"

She wanted to tell him everything.  So much had changed before they’d had time to adjust to their more intimate relationship.  It had seemed they had gone from friends to lovers to parents to fugitives in the span of moments and they had barely discussed any of it.  Now that they had the opportunity, she wasn’t sure where to begin.

"Tell me," he said softly.

She sighed, took in a deep breath, closing her eyes.  She released the breath slowly and after several seconds re-opened her eyes. 

"I'm going to take a shower now," she said.

She pushed herself off of the bed, found her discarded pajamas and closed the bathroom door behind her.

They had all the time in the world to sort things out.  All ten years left of it.

^^^^^^

Vignette 3: Post-Existence

Summary: Mulder and Scully navigate their new lives as parents.

Mesabi Ferrum: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Washington, D.C.

May 2001

She wished the kiss could last forever.  There had been too few kisses between them in the first place and this was the first in a long time that was born purely from joy, hope and contentment, with no residue of fear or restlessness.  Scully had everything she could hope for, all within the four walls of her bedroom; all within an arm's reach.  Even so, a line from a poem she had once read pricked her mind.  She pulled away from the kiss, reluctantly, unable to shake the idea that 'nothing gold can stay.'  

Perhaps that was true, but in Mulder’s eyes she saw everything she felt, and in his arms he held their son.

“You should rest, Scully,” Mulder said without censure, still looking at -- mesmerized by -- William, who was wrapped in a blanket, his ten fingers moving without purpose, his eyelids heavy.  “I’ve got him.”  

“He’ll need to eat soon,” Scully said.  She lightly rubbed the back of her finger over the soft skin of the baby’s face.  Even when she touched him she couldn't quite believe it.  She was someone's mother.

Mulder whispered, “Oooh, my favorite show.”

“Mulder!” she scolded him insincerely through soft laughter, patting him lightly on his shoulder.  He laughed with her, both of them comfortable and relaxed in a way they hadn't ever known together. 

“Go ahead, Scully, lie down,” he said, nodding towards the bed next to them. 

She cocked her head slightly.  “Come with me?” she asked.  “Let him sleep until it’s time for his feeding.”

“Okay,” he said.  He moved to the bassinette and placed William inside.  The baby stuck his tongue out, suckling even in his sleep.  Scully crawled up on the bed and Mulder crawled over her, careful not to jostle her or put any weight on her.  They lay on their sides, both facing the bassinette and their miracle inside of it.  Mulder nestled behind Scully, his left arm slung loosely over her hip.  He softly rubbed his thumb over her abdomen, now soft and pliant.  Her head rested on his right arm and she placed her left hand in his right. 

Maybe nothing gold can stay, but by God, she would try to keep it anyway.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I love you,” she said without hesitation, sounding drowsy to her own ears.  The phrase rolled easily off of her tongue.  She felt his hand still against her belly, felt him tense.  “What’s wrong?”  He didn’t answer.  “Mulder?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” he sounded choked, like the words had caught in his throat.

“What?” she asked, feeling worry creep up her spine, twisting around to face him.

“That’s the first time you’ve said that to me.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, brow furrowed, slightly defensive. 

He relaxed a little.  “It's okay, Scully.  I’ve always known it,” he said, twitching his cheek, smiling boyishly.  “Almost always.  I’m not any better at saying it either.”

She smiled softly and put the palm of her hand to his cheek.  “There are probably lots of things we should have said to each other before this point,” she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss.  Pulling back, keeping her hand on his cheek, she said, “Beginning now, let’s agree to act like adults who have a child together rather than kids in junior high school passing notes during study hall.”

“I would give anything to have known you in junior high, Scully,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Mulder, you wouldn’t have said two words to me then,” she said, challenging him. 

“I think it would have been the other way around,” he said.  “I’ve seen your mother’s photos, Scully.  You were a cheerleader.”

“You saw pictures!” she said, feeling the telltale burn of mortification in her cheeks.  “I thought I’d gotten rid of all of the evidence.  Didn’t last long, though.  I quit after ninth grade.” 

She lifted her head up and held her head in her left hand, her elbow bent and resting on the pillow, still lying on her side.  He mirrored her posture.  “Doesn’t matter,” he said.  “The images are permanently etched into my brain.  I think they may become useful at a later date.  Luckily for you, Frohike can’t download straight from my head, yet.” 

“Don’t be so sure," not lingering on the subject of Frohike for long, "Mulder, this is not exactly what I meant by acting like adults,” she said, trying to sound serious, “Beginning now.”

He nodded.  “Beginning now,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to hold back his smile.

Her own smile faded.  She grew serious and looked into his eyes, “I do love you, Mulder.  Thank you.”

He looked surprised.  “What for?”

“Just thank you,” she said, laughing at herself softly.  Against her will, a tear blurred her vision.  “For William, for the truth, for second chances… for you,” she said.

He wiped away her lone escaped tear with the pad of his thumb.  “I love you, too, Scully.  Beginning now…” he said looking into her eyes, waiting for them to clear. 

“Beginning now,” she agreed, in nearly a whisper. 

Suddenly, Mulder seemed nervous.  He licked his lips and sat up straight, crossing his legs.  She pulled herself up gingerly, leaning her back against the headboard, keeping her legs flat in front of her on the bed.  Taking her hands, he said, “Scully, I didn’t plan this, but all of a sudden it seems like the right thing to do.”

She pushed back a twinge of fear.  She never knew what to expect when Mulder had an idea.  It could be the most wonderful, inspired thought ever conjured by man or it could lead to mortal danger, probably with one or both of them landing in the hospital for the thousandth time.  Sometimes his ideas were a combination of both extremes.  She felt her heart rate increase.  “Okay,” she said, taking in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.  “I’m listening.”

“Will you marry me?” he said it like it was all one word, but he didn't look away from her eyes.

Her own eyes felt incapable of blinking, like her lids were glued to her eyebrows. 

“Scully?  You don’t have to answer me right now,” he said, looking down at their joined hands.  “I know it’s sudden.”

“Yes,” she said simply.  She felt him exhale and he looked up at her face again.

“Yes?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.  “Yes, it’s sudden, or yes you will?” 

She crinkled her brow, looking at him like he was slightly crazy, but smiling through closed lips.  “Yes, I will.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her gently.  “Okay, all right.”  He nodded and smiled self-consciously, and so did she.  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back with him so they rested against the headboard.  She tilted her face against his chest, closing her eyes, feeling his heart rate slow down to a reasonable pace.  They were getting married. 

Scully tried, but she couldn’t push the poem out of her mind.  Nothing gold can stay.

^^^^^^

Vignette 4: Three Words (post episode scene)

Summary: Mulder and Scully clarify a misunderstanding about Scully’s unborn child.

Mesabi Ferrum: CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Washington DC

Spring 2001

Late Evening

Scully threw her keys on the kitchen table, and they slid a few feet on the smooth, hard wood before coming to a stop.  Her apartment was dark.  She stood with her back to him, unable to face him.  Her breath hitched involuntarily.  She wasn't sure if she was going to burst into tears or punch him in the stomach for putting her through this latest adventure.

She had just gotten him back.  Something she could only have believed in her dreams had come true.  Mulder was alive.

"Scully, you know I had to try," he said, sounding somewhere between remorseful and smug.

Scully pursed her lips together and looked up at nothing on the ceiling, pleading silently to the light fixture gods to help her to not cry.  Damn the pregnancy-induced hormones.  For the past several months she had felt so out of control and *little* things like Mulder's abduction, death and resurrection had only been kindling for her already out of balance emotions.

"Scully?" 

She felt him move a step closer to her.

She took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly.  Not knowing what else to do with her hands, she put them on her hips.  "Mulder, I can't go through that again," she said shakily.

"Through what again?" he asked, seeming genuinely perplexed, which made her already frayed nerves do summersaults.

She turned to face him, furrowing her brow in disbelief that he would ask such a thing.  "You dying, Mulder."

He actually laughed.  It was a soft, almost patronizing chuckle, but it was a laugh.  "I didn't die this time.  I'm fine.  I'm standing right here."  Her face remained serious; his smile faded.  "Scully, I'm still the same person I was before.  Aside from a few more scars, I haven't changed.  I thought you better than anybody would understand that."

"I do understand that, Mulder and that's why I'm terrified," she said.  The tears she'd been holding back finally spilled down her cheeks.  "But *I* have changed.  *Things* have changed."  She placed her hand over her pregnant belly and Mulder's gaze followed.

They stood uncomfortably silent in the dark room for what was probably only seconds, but to Scully it felt like eons.  So far, Mulder had given her his congratulations, a forced smile and awkward glances, but they had yet to really discuss the child growing inside her and what that meant for them together.  She had tried, but his own terrifying experiences were enough for him to deal with at the moment. 

"Scully, I don't expect you to follow me on these -- investigations.  I know you have more to think about right now.  I know how much that baby means to you," Mulder said, less confident than he had been earlier, glancing away.

"What about what this baby means to you, Mulder?" she said.  "It's been a week since you found out about this baby and you've barely said more than a full sentence about it and when you do, it's always how happy you are for me."  She hadn't wanted to say these things to him, not in this way, but the stress of the past six months overwhelmed her.  The fear and pain, the joy and guilt and the despair that she had tried to hold inside of herself spilled over her lips, hitting him square in the chest.  "The very same day that I lost you, I found out about this baby.  I was so happy, yet in agony because you were gone.  The person I wanted to share this with the most had been taken from me.  Then, after searching for you, only to find you dead…  Mulder, I watched them lower your coffin into the ground.  I threw dirt over it.  The only thing keeping me standing was this baby, because I knew it was my only lasting link to you.  I wanted to make sure this child knew its father."

Mulder's only reaction was a barely audible, "What?"  And he blinked.  Twice.

"I said I wanted our baby to know its father," she said, unsure exactly which part of her speech he was referring to.  "I -- I want our baby to know you."

"Our baby?" he said, still staring with vacant eyes.

"Yes," she said simply.

"This is our baby?"

"Yes," she said, like she was speaking to a slow child.  Then realization hit her, "Oh my god, you didn't know, did you?"

He shook his head slowly back and forth.  He spoke like his tongue was slightly paralyzed, or like he was mildly intoxicated.  "I thought that you tried again.  That maybe you tried the IVF again and it finally worked." 

"No," she said, softly.  She never thought for a minute that he would reach that conclusion.  She'd been in such a rush to tell him that she was pregnant before he saw for himself, that she hadn't thought to tell him he was the father.  The paternity of her baby had never been a fact she had questioned, so she'd assumed he wouldn't either.  Now that she understood he'd misinterpreted the situation, his coldness, his aloof behavior since he'd found out about her pregnancy all made perfect sense.

"But how?" he asked, stepping closer to her, still keeping a couple of feet away.

She smirked.  "Birds and the bees and the monkey babies, Mulder," she said, her voice rough and thick with some emotion she couldn't quite name.

He smiled at the memory.  "But we only… I mean, we," he started.  He shifted his feet uncomfortably, and Scully was somewhat amused that he was so nervous discussing their brief sexual history together considering the extensive video collection he'd amassed over the years.  Not to mention the fact that he hadn't been the least bit shy during their mere handful of intimate encounters prior to his abduction.  He cleared his throat and changed tacks.  "Scully, you were incapable of conceiving."

"So they said.  I guess they were wrong."

"But you went to several specialists.  I know you reviewed the reports yourself.  I discovered what they did to you," he said.

"I can't explain it, Mulder.  It doesn't change the facts.  We conceived this child.  I'm sorry I wasn't clear about that when I told you in the first place.  I never guessed you'd think I would try without you."

"I knew how important having a child was to you.  I know how hurt you were when it failed."

She had been hurt.  When she'd first asked Mulder to help her conceive a child they had been partners in every sense of the term except physically.  If he had declined her request, she would not have pursued another donor, yet it took failure and several months beyond that for her to realize it hadn't merely been a child she had wanted desperately, but a child with Mulder.  She'd never told him that.  When he'd been abducted, they'd only begun exploring the full scope of their feelings for each other.  Neither of them had ever been very good at baring their souls and laying their hearts open for the other to see.  It took losing him for her to realize just how foolish she had been and how much time she had wasted.  She didn't want to make the same mistake again now that she had him back.

She also didn't want him getting himself killed for good this time.

"Mulder," she started, stepping closer to him.  She reached for his hand and lightly alternated her fingers over his.  "I was devastated when the IVF didn't take, but that was a sliver in my finger compared to what I felt when I lost you.  Do you understand that?"

Mulder looked at their entwined fingers, and she watched his eyes flicker over her stomach.  With both of hers, she placed Mulder's hand over her belly, wondering if she was pushing him too far too quickly.  She couldn't muster up the courage to look into his eyes at the same time.  "I know this is a shock, Mulder.  I know it's not what you signed up for.  I don't expect anything from you, and I wouldn't blame you if you ran through that door right now, but I was hoping that maybe we could do this together.  Just like we always do?"  She inhaled quickly and when he didn't respond, a million butterflies took flight at once inside her.  "Mulder?"  His hand was still over her belly and she finally allowed herself to glance up at his face.  He had the slightest hint of a smile on his lips, and his eyes sparkled, though Scully thought she saw the beginnings of tears forming.  His face was peaceful and awestruck. He met her eyes with his own.

"I'd like that, Scully," he answered simply, smiling more broadly.  "I'd like that a lot."

She hoped he meant that part about them doing it together and not the part where he ran through the door.  She took the fact that his feet hadn't moved an inch as a good sign and didn't tempt providence again.  Maybe they both could begin to heal.

^^^^^^

Vignette 5: Requiem (post episode scene)

Summary: Mulder and Scully deal with Mulder’s impending trip back to Oregon after Scully’s strange illness prevents her from going with him.

Mesabi Ferrum: PART SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Alexandria, Virginia

Summer 2000

"When do you leave?" Scully asked.  She wandered around Mulder's apartment as he flitted from room to room, gathering items to pack for his trip.  She'd been picking up random objects -- a framed photograph, a miniature jade alien, a book -- setting them down without really looking at them.  She just wanted to touch pieces of him before he left.  She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt such a need to connect with him.   They had gone on hundreds of trips, dozens of them without the other, over their seven years as partners.  Somehow, this time was different.

"First available flight is in four hours.  Skinner tried to get something sooner, but no luck," Mulder said. 

"Oh," she said, not really hearing him.

"Scully?"

"Hmmm?" she answered as she picked up a stapler from his desk. 

"Are you okay?"  There was concern in his voice and it snapped her attention away from the meaningless object, towards him.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Are you sure?  Are you feeling sick again?"

"No, no, Mulder.  I think whatever that was has passed," she said.

"Then what's wrong?"  He stepped closer, throwing the shirt he held onto the corner chair.  "I've never seen you so fascinated by office supplies before." 

She smiled contemplatively and set the stapler back down.  "I guess I'm still uncomfortable with this trip.  Something doesn't feel right."

"I'll have the Skin-man with me," he said, light in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.  He was trying to soothe her, but she knew he understood the danger as well as she did.  She returned his smile, trying to reassure him, too, and leaned backwards against his desk with her hands on the edge supporting her.  He continued, "This is just another day in the life on the X-Files.  I'm sure I'll come back with more questions than answers.  It's no different than any other trip."

"If that were true, I'd be going with you," she said hoping there was no accusation creeping into her voice.  It was as much her decision as it was his, or so she had convinced herself.  He closed his mouth tightly, and looked down like he'd been rapped on the knuckles with a ruler.  "Its okay, Mulder," she said, stepping closer to him, sliding her arms around his waist, clasping her hands together behind his back.  "You know this is different now.  We're different now.  I just can't shake the feeling that something is about to change."

"Sometimes change is good," he said, looking down at her, lifting his brow.

"Sometimes," she echoed.  She turned her head and laid it against his chest, pulling him tightly against her.  After a long moment, she felt him pull away slightly.  She looked up as he lowered his head and kissed her lips softly.

"Change can be very good," he said and kissed her again. 

It started innocently enough, but quickly turned frenzied, hungry.  They had only been together a handful of times since their relationship had taken the inevitable turn towards intimacy.  Each time had been slow and tender.  She had never felt a need to dig her nails into his skin and claim him like she did now.  She could tell by the way he kissed her that he felt it, too.  The previous times they'd made love had felt like beginnings, exploration of new territory, but this already felt like goodbye. 

*Goodbye for now* she forced herself to qualify.

Without breaking the kiss, she unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushed it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.  She slid her hands over his white t-shirt-covered chest, over his clavicle, down his slim but toned sides.  She twisted the bottom front of his t-shirt, bunching it in her fingers, and used the soft cotton as a rope to pull him towards her and through his bedroom door. 

Scattered all over his bed were clothes he'd been in the middle of packing along with a large blue duffle bag.  She barely got her suit jacket off before he had pushed her backwards onto the bed, shoving the bag carelessly to the floor where it landed with a muffled puff.  As his lips searched over her face, touching a different spot per second, they each absently threw the remaining clothes, both those from his bed and those they still wore, to meet the same fate as the duffle, until finally only skin was between them.

And this, wonderful as it was, felt like goodbye, too.

^^^^^^

Vignette 6: Per Manum (post-flashback within episode scene)

Summary: Mulder and Scully have a difficult conversation after the last IVF attempt has failed.  Scully makes a decision about her future with Mulder. 

Author’s Note: In my world, the Per Manum flashback takes place before season seven’s “all things” which in the Mesabi Ferrum universe is where Mulder and Scully first slept together.  And while it’s not technically in the Mesabi Ferrum universe, my story “Time Passes”, which was the first fanfiction I wrote and published, tells the story as I see it happening of their transition from friends to lovers. 

Also, when I originally posted these vignettes, I had accidentally left this one out!  It was only when I re-read Mesabi Ferrum as research for its sequel that I rediscovered it.  I hope you enjoy it!  Its weird how one can forget the things one writes!

Mesabi Ferrum: PART SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Washington DC

Spring 1999

Evening

Scully felt Mulder's breath on her neck -- his heart beating steadily in his chest pressed against her -- but he was not close enough. This was her safe place, her solid ground; wrapped up in Mulder's arms. Her chance at being a mother was gone forever, but in his embrace she wondered if there might be a chance at something else. Not a miracle, but a promise. A commitment.

She felt him pull away. His eyes met hers as he smoothed his fingertips along her hairline, settling to cradle her neck at the base of her skull as he spoke. "Can I make you some tea and we can talk about it?" he asked softly.

Her smile did not touch her eyes. He wanted to talk. That was so unlike the old them, but maybe it was a sign of things to come. "Tea would be good. Thank you," she said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. He kissed her gently at her temple, lingering a few seconds longer than a friend would, but not long enough for her liking. She considered turning her face slightly and kissing him on the lips. But just as she had hesitated earlier when he'd first embraced her, she did so again, and the moment passed. One among many.

"Sit down," he said without being demanding. "I know where everything is." He turned away from her and went about preparing tea. Scully sat down on her sofa wondering what was holding her back. She had been able to ask him to father her child, but she couldn't tell him how she felt about him.

A few minutes later, they sat quietly together sipping their tea, each sitting with one leg bent on the sofa and one on the floor half facing the other, stealing occasional glances. The silence was comfortable, not awkward like it had been since the moment she had asked him to father her child. They were not lovers, but they were so much more than friends. If she had learned nothing else from this experience, she had learned that.

"I'm sorry it didn't work, Scully. I really am," Mulder finally said, almost timidly, like he was worried she would break if he spoke.

Earlier, during the drive home alone from her doctor's office, after learning the results of the IVF treatments she'd undergone for the past month, she'd considered what she wanted to tell Mulder. He stayed behind at her request and waited for her at her apartment. She'd known she would need time to absorb the impact of the results, whether positive or negative. She'd hoped to simply give him a detached explanation of what had taken place and what would happen next.

"It worked," or "It was a long shot anyway," was as emotional as she'd wanted to become. But with each red traffic light, the greater her realization that she would never become a mother grew. Scully thought she'd accepted that fact, having long ago resigned herself to it, but watching her re-ignited hope snuffed out for good had been worse than hearing her initial infertility diagnosis almost two years earlier. Back then, she hadn't thought she'd wanted children at all.

This time it was different. This time, she had dared herself to hope.

Scully breathed in deeply the bitter aroma of her tea. "So am I, Mulder," she said. She sighed, shifted her weight and began rebuilding the crumbled brick and mortar around her heart. "But, it's probably for the best. With our work, our lives... I made this decision so fast. It was probably very irresponsible of me. And I barely gave you time to think it over. That was unfair. This is better for everyone."

"Maybe it is," he said and despite them being the words she had believed she'd wanted to hear, her heart sank a little. "Can I ask you something?" he added.

"Of course," she said, blowing on her tea, watching it ripple to avoid looking into his eyes. She'd wondered why he'd said yes to her request in the first place. She'd never been brave enough to ask, but she knew his decision had been partly out of unwarranted guilt. What was worse, she had let him say yes in spite of knowing guilt was a factor.

"Why did you ask me?"

"Who else would I ask?" she responded without hostility, still not looking up.

"Lots of women use anonymous donors these days."

"Lots of women do," she said. This conversation seemed to be happening a little too late, which would make it easier to have. She felt the status quo of their relationship holding her back. They'd always been adept at speaking to each other in guarded half-truths and barely veiled innuendo. Even now after all that had happened between them, and all that she wanted, it was difficult for her to change.

Without the prospect of a child, she was afraid of losing him if she gave him the uncensored answers. He was her friend. Who else could she have trusted? She wanted the baby to know his father as a person, not a serial number. She could tell him those things. They were true, but incomplete. There had simply been no other option. She wanted to share the experience of parenthood with someone she trusted and loved. Not *someone*. Him. She would have a baby with Mulder or no one. If he didn't feel the same way, having that truth between them would drive them apart. She was sure of it.

When she didn't say more, Mulder sighed and sat forward, placing his cup on the coffee table in front of him. "I should probably let you get some rest," he said. "I don't mean to keep you up."

"I'm not really tired," she said yawning in spite of herself. She sat forward and put her cup of tea on the table. Mirroring his posture sitting next to him with their shoulders almost touching, she said, "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

She gathered her courage and turned her head to look him in the eyes. "Why did you say yes?"

"You're my friend, Scully," he said.

"I see," she said, looking to her hands folded in front of her.

He sighed and slapped his hands on his knees, pushing himself off of the sofa. "You never answered me," he said. He walked to the door, grabbing his jacket along the way and Scully realized she had let yet another moment pass her by.

"Mulder, wait," she said, standing up and walking the few steps towards him. She touched his forearm, met his eyes and took a deep breath. If she couldn't tell him now, when could she? Maybe never, she thought as she exhaled. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for everything." Instead of laying her heart open, she pulled him into a final embrace that he returned warmly.

"Goodnight, Scully," he said when he pulled back. "I'll call you tomorrow. Make sure you're okay." He twisted the knob on her door and then he was gone.

She closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes, feeling the burn of unwanted tears once more. "Good night, Mulder," she whispered.

Then she made herself a promise. If she got another chance, she would take it.

She exhaled and flipped off the light, blanketing her apartment in shadow.

^^^^^^^

 


End file.
